Pack
by Aubrie1234
Summary: Who knows what is myth and what is fact? How can you tell? The line between them becomes blurred when some of the nations are attacked and begin to change. Because of this, what will happen to their relationships/friendships? (Also includes the States, D.C., and the rest of the UK)
1. Prologue

Pack

By: Aubrie1234

* * *

"You see them?" There was slight static as he released the talk button of the walkie-talkie.

"Yep. Is the plan still in place?"

"As long as they don't leave the country, then yes. Are the others in position?"

"Yes, _mother_." The man frowned at the back talk.

"Just check with them, will you? We need to mark the nations before we set our real plans in motion."

"But what will happen when they're marked? They'll certainly see who's territory they're in..."

"They're nations; they'll be healed and out of the country before night falls. They _have_ to be if everything is going to work."

"Mmm..." There was a pause.

"There's something bothering you."

"How'd you know?" The sarcasm was imminent.

"Tell me or I'll strangle in out of you in the morning." The sigh on the other side sounded more like static.

"I'm just worried. Some of them are too smart for their own good and are supreme battle veterans, not to mention the strength of Russia and America alone and Canada, seeing as most people don't notice him, can sneak around."

"I've already thought of that. Next World Meeting, I'll arrange it where they'll be stuck together at night. Chances are they'll kill each other and mark the other nations."

"Are you forgetting that as long as their nation exists they can't be truly killed?"

"I know that, but while transformed, I'm counting on the assumption that the rule won't apply."

"You're basing everything on an ASSUMPTION?!" The man held the device away from him as it blasted static from the shout.

"Quiet, or do you want to be overheard?!" he hissed, "Anyway, when have I ever been wrong?"

"..." It was silent for a few seconds, "...Almost never. However, this could be one of the very rare times you are. We've observed the nations, specifically these 8, for a long time, I know. But we have no idea how they'll react to all of this. And, as Norway and Romania can also do magic, there's a chance they can lift the curse."

"Not if they have no idea of it before they get marked." The man glanced up, where the sun was setting, and grinned, "The game is about to begin, Gerard. You know your targets, and so do the rest of us. Don't mess this up." The man lifted his finger off the button before switching the device off and putting it in his pack, where there was also an extra set of clothes.

* * *

England shivered for several reasons. One, all of the nations had rented the same hotel in Amsterdam, except for Netherlands (he, of course, went home with Belgium); they were each going there in pairs and he, of all people, had gotten stuck with the commie. Two, Russia was another reason he was shivering. Three, the cold weather was seeping through his thick jacket. Four, he felt almost as if he was being watched. With the way he saw Russia's eyes dart around sometimes, he was quite sure the larger nation could feel it, too.

"Cold tonight, da?"

"Yes, especially since it's winter. Now I can see how that git always wears a scarf, as do you."

"It is more of a gift from my sister. I do not need it in cold weather, as I am used to it."

"Bloody good to know." England shivered again. Russia glanced down at him.

"Do you need another coat, comrade? I can lend you mine, if you like."

"No thank you." England glanced back, "Do you have your pipe with you, perchance?"

"Da." Russia put a hand inside his coat, gripping the pipe, "Always. And your sword?"

"I have it right where I need it." England answered. They had now stopped to listen, as the feeling of watching suddenly became stronger. It reminded England of Russia's aura somewhat, but with a more sinister feel. Trailing a hand down to his belt, England gripped the pommel of his sword. Instinctively, the two turned until their backs were touching, weapons at the ready; despite the differences all the countries had, they had amazing senses, especially from war, which helped them out in times of need. Such as now, when they were attacked.

Out of the shadows jumped a huge, dark brown wolf, lunging at England; it was larger that the Englishman and looked like it could even take on Russia. The Brit swiftly brought up his sword and sliced at the wolf's leg. It yelped slightly, but jumped back only a few feet. Now more cautious, it kept its eyes on them as it circled them, growling lowly.

 _A simple wolf couldn't have made us this tense, could it?_ the Englishman thought, not wanting to take his eyes off the creature, either, but had no choice when it circled to face Russia. However, he felt somewhat safe that he was guarded by the Russian, and Russia felt the same with England guarding his back. But that feeling was short lived when another, smaller, blond wolf shot out of the shadows and stole England's sword. Once throwing it out of reach, it snarled at the island nation. England still had some surprises, though.

Taking a page out of Germany's book, the Briton pulled out a handgun, which he had kept with him in case of emergencies when he couldn't use his sword. This was one of those times. He wasn't able to get a shot in, though, as the gun was ripped from his grip, nearly along with his hand, as the wolf bit onto it. England shouted in pain and quickly took his hand away, tucking it under his arm. He knew hand injuries shouldn't hurt all that much, but this one was blistering, almost blackout-type pain. And, somehow, the pain was spreading, and at an alarming pace, not to mention getting worse.

Russia was having his own difficulties, trying to beat off the other wolf with his pipe and super strength. Every time either his fist or the pipe connected, he could feel bones breaking and the wolf whimper before going back to the shadows. Then, soon after, it would strike again. It was relentless, but Russia, having to deal with Belarus all the time, wasn't becoming exhausted. He couldn't protect himself forever, though. Just as he was swinging the pipe again at where the wolf looked to be lunging, it changed direction and, too quick for him to defend himself, bit down on his lower arm. The giant grasped the wolf and tore it off his arm, throwing it into a nearby wall with a resounding crack. From the side appeared the other wolf, which he hadn't heard or seen, having been too busy dealing with the first one. The blond wolf growled at them before taking its comrade by the scruff and dragging it away.

As it did, Russia put a hand on his injury, wincing. Rarely in his entire life had he felt such great pain. Slowly, he put his pipe away and helped England with his weapons. Unconsciously, the Brit leaned against him, looking as white as a sheet from the pain, gritting his teeth.

"Do you think...this was an ambush?" he gasped out, "It sure...bloody looked like it."

"Da." Russia nodded, "Allow me to help." Occupied by the increasing pain, England didn't care as he was lifted off his feet by the Russian. There were times like these when pride needed to be ignored and when nations could civilly work together.

"What about...the others? Do you think...they were targeted too?" Wincing again from his hurt arm, Russia could only nod. Like England's wound, the pain was beginning to spread and even get worse, especially since he was carrying the island nation.

"If that wanker America...is hurt, I'll bloody murder...who did it!" It was at that point England passed out, and Russia could feel himself coming close to that point. Thankfully, they hadn't gone far from the World Meeting building, so he was hoping to get there before he passed out as well. England may have been small, but he didn't give in easily, especially during the Battle of Britain. It must have been some very intense pain to make him faint, and Russia didn't want to go that way before they got to safety. If England was right on the ambush, then there was no telling if they would be ambushed again. And, in this weakened state, they may not be so lucky...

* * *

America moaned softly, wishing that the store was open. Canada sighed and had to drag his brother away from the candy store's front window before the stronger nation tried to lick the window like a kid. Canada knew this because he had seen his brother do it before and wouldn't put it past America to do it again, despite the lecture he got from England when the island nation had heard of the incident.

"Aw, c'mon!" America whined, "Why can't it be open?"

"It's late, almost 10 at night. Did you think it would still be open?"

"No, but then again..." Canada sighed once again, feeling the urge to facepalm but ignoring it. He tried to drag America with him again, but was stopped when the nation wouldn't move. Canada opened his mouth as he turned back to tell America to get moving, but the words died in his throat as he saw his brother's face. It was completely white and his pupils were pinpricks, his face shocked and so stiff it almost looked like a mask. Canada got the faint sensation that he was shaking as well.

"M-M-Mattie..." America whimpered. Canada knew that his brother only got this scared when it involved ghosts, and must have been far past that, as America only used his brother's human name in public or when he was s****ing scared. Canada looked behind them, but saw nothing. What had scared America so badly?

"Alfre-?" Canada wasn't able to finish as he was pushed over from behind and something clamped on his upper arm, breaking the skin and digging in deeply. He stifled a scream, but his brother didn't. America's scream was loud, filled with fear and pain, and Canada knew that the American would be too scared to do anything, if the scream was anything to go by.

Struggling through the pain, Canada grasped whatever was holding him down and threw it forward, ripping it off his arm. He turned to America at hearing his brother's whimper and his breath caught in shock. A giant black wolf with blood-red eyes was biting into America's side, through the thick bomber jacket, pinning his brother with its paws, and yet its glaring eyes were glued to Canada. America's eyes were tightly closed, hands shaking badly as he tried to pry off the wolf's jaws, not to mention try to move one of its paws off his neck. At another growl, the nation whipped around to see another large wolf, white with yellow eyes, getting up and shaking its head. Canada had thrown it into a light pole and dazed it, but was quickly getting its senses back. The Canadian guessed he only had seconds before the other one attacked him again and quickly came up with a plan. However, America wasn't going to like it.

Canada got to his feet and rushed at the black wolf, hands hitting the creature in its shoulders and ripping it off of America; the freedom nation screamed in pain as it happened, the wolf's teeth tearing at him as they were ripped out. Canada then used the momentum to swing the wolf at the other one, making them both crash into the already dented pole. While they moaned and snarled, the Canadian made a quick check of his brother. Like before, the American was shaking like a leaf, his face white as a sheet, and his eyes tightly shut, but now he was covered in a sheen of sweat and whimpered.

"Pain..." he managed to squeak out. At the mention of the word, Canada began to notice his own pain, which he had ignored while saving his brother. The pain from his arm had surprisingly spread and was getting worse. However, America was having a much harder time than he did for some reason. Was it because of his fear? But why would he be so scared of wolves? He hadn't been scared of them before, the northern nation was sure. Gently yet swiftly, Canada picked up his whimpering brother and went back the way they came, back to the World Meeting building, while trying to sooth his brother with words; words he knew that wouldn't do any good, but would calm his brother until they could find help...

* * *

Sweden wasn't quite sure why the other Nordics allowed him to decide where they were going, but now it was a different story. When Italy's scream had ripped through the night, the five had rushed towards the sound, finding what could only be described as an ambush: four wolves, all of them quite large, were circling the Italian and German brothers. All of them were either covered in cuts or bites, Romano and German were unconscious, Prussia was struggling to stand, and Italy shook, whimpering. No one had noticed the Nordics yet.

The second-biggest wolf of the group, a tan-colored one with green eyes, pounced, aiming for Italy. Denmark took action and grabbed the wolf's tail, pulling it back. When Denmark had moved, so had the other Nordics. Norway took on another, a red-furred wolf with silver eyes; Finland and Iceland teamed up to take on the smallest, a silver-blond wolf with dark brown, almost black eyes; that left Sweden to deal with the largest. It was a huge black wolf, which seemed to look at him with intelligence and contempt in its bright purple eyes. Sweden held his ground, glaring. His unintentional intimidating manner wasn't affecting the wolf in the slightest.

Suddenly, in bore its teeth and rushed at him. When it was close enough, Sweden grabbed it by one shoulder and its neck, hefting it up above him. It clawed and him, cutting his arms, but he ignored it. Even as his arms stretched to their full length, it towered above him. Then, surprisingly, it seemed to grin and grabbed his arms, ripping them away. These were no ordinary wolves. A quick punch to the stomach forced the air out of his body, allowing the wolf to easily push him over; his glasses also tumbled away, not allowing him to see clearly. It wasted no time in attacking him again, biting down on his neck. Sweden gasped, trying to grasp its jaws and force them open, but its paws held his hands down.

Darkness was quickly taking over from the suffocation, but he was saved as the wolf was finally ripped away. When he looked up, coughing blood, he was surprised to see who it was, just by the hair color. To make sure he wasn't already unconscious, he found his glasses and put them on. Italy, of all nations, had save him. The smaller nation had done a similar thing to what Denmark had done earlier: he had slapped the beasts wrists, surprising it and making it loosen its hold before taking it by the tail and throwing it away. Looking around him, Sweden saw that the other Nordics had beaten the wolves with no injuries, somehow, and were now helping the other three countries. The wolves growled at them, knowing they were beaten, and ran away; however, just by the look the black one was giving him, Sweden knew he would see the wolf again. Italy helped him up, offering his jacket to help staunch the bleeding. Gratefully, Sweden accepted it while noticing something else. The German brothers and Romano had bites on them, along with claw marks, but Italy only seemed to have a cut on his arm. It was just as strange as the other Nordics not getting hurt.

"Ve, how are the others?" Italy asked.

"Prussia just passed out, but thankfully, they're healing pretty fast." Iceland said, "How are you, Sweden?"

"Been better." he coughed, also coughing up some blood. He felt strangely weak, and the pain seemed to spread through his body. Italy seemed to notice this and stood close to him, helping him stand.

"We have to get them back to the World Meeting building." Finland said, "Denmark, you take Germany. Norway, you take Prussia. I'll get Romano."

"And Iceland, could you help me with Sweden?" Iceland nodded and helped Italy by taking Sweden's other side. It was then that they started back to the building as fast as they could.

* * *

The Baltics were cleaning the place up for the humans who would come the next day, trying to allow it to not be such a terrible mess. They guessed it was kind of a second nature that they gained from staying with Russia for so long. Poland was also there, taking a nap as he waited for Lithuania. They were all startled as the door burst open, Canada and Russia coming in with England and America in their arms, unconscious. Taking in their injuries, Latvia went to find the medical supplies as the remaining Baltics and Poland helped the larger powers. They led them to the medical room, which could house up to a dozen nations. It was created mainly for England and France when they fought, but was also used sometimes when other fights broken out.

"Like, what happened to you guys?" Poland asked as he took England from Russia, setting the smaller nation down on a bed. Latvia then returned, the table carrying the medical supplies rattling behind him. America was taken by Lithuania and Estonia to the bed beside England.

"We were ambushed." Canada panted as he and Russia were relieved of carrying the other countries, "There were all...these wolves. They came out...of nowhere and...attacked us."

"Da." Russia nodded, taking his own bed to lay on, as did Canada. Both men were hurting greatly and just wanted to sleep or have something to stop the relentless pain.

"They aren't the only ones." Denmark said as the Nordics came in, carrying their own injured friends. Gently, the injured were laid on their beds except for Italy; as he was the least injured and didn't have life-threatening injuries, he helped the Baltics, Poland, and the remaining Nordics take care of their injured friends (but not without having to bandage his arm first at Poland's insistence).

* * *

"So, all of them were attacked?" Lithuania asked once all the injured (with the exception of Italy) were asleep. The Italian nodded.

"Ve, it was tough." he said, "Out of nowhere, the wolves surrounded and attacked us. Prussia was hurt first and _fratello_ was hurt protecting me. Germany tried to fight but was hurt from behind, like Canada was."

"If Prussia was hurt first, then how was he still awake when we got there?" Finland asked. Italy shrugged. He sat beside Germany and Romano, one on each side wo he could look after them both.

"I don't know. I would guess it was because he was older than the rest of us, but I'm not certain, ve." Norway, unlike the rest of them, was pacing, thinking hard about something.

"Norge, would you calm down a second?" Denmark asked, exasperated. Norway ignored his plea.

"Something isn't right." he said, "These were deliberate ambushes, but regular wolves couldn't do that. I know I've read about this before, but I can't remember where!"

"Well, with how fast they're healing, they should be fine in the morning." Estonia said, "We may as well wash up and get some rest ourselves." Everyone left the room except Italy and Norway.

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?" Italy asked, moving his hand to gently grasp his brother's. Norway nodded, closing his eyes.

"Something's really out of place, but I can't put my finger on it! I know this! Romania, England, and I all know this, I'm sure. It's something magical, but it still eludes me..."

"Then why don't you go looking for it again, ve?" Italy said, "If I can't remember something that I already know, like a recipe, I go looking for it again. It happens all the time." The Nordic opened his eyes and nodded.

"Right, but my books are back home. I'll have to check tomorrow, when we leave." Norway put a hand on the head of Sweden's bed, looking down at the sleeping nation, "I only hope this isn't as bad as I feel it is." The Italian nodded.

"I know what you mean." Italy's free hand touched the bandages on his arm, "Ever since I got scratched just an hour ago, ve, I know something's changed. I can't explain it, but I know." Letting go of his brother's hand, Italy stood, "Anyway, ve, we need to go. The others are probably wondering why we haven't joined them yet." The Norwegian nodded and followed the Italian out.

* * *

 _ **Another story, I KNOW. Can't help it. Anyway, later on, you'll see what happens when they go home and why America was so scared. However, you'll have to see about the mysterious men and the wolves. As for the bites and scratches, only the bites cause immense pain; scratches don't. That's why Italy isn't in as much pain as the others. READ & REVIEW!**_


	2. Chapter 1 Part 1: Arthur

Pack

By: Aubrie1234

* * *

The next day, with the exception of slight fevers and continuous headaches, the attacked nations were good to go. Not wanting to cause a panic, no other nations were told. Everyone was going home with someone so they could watch over each other except for Eng- En- What was his nation name? Seeing as it caused a big headache when most of them thought about it, they decided to go with his human name, Arthur; the same happened with the other injured nations, where they referred to themselves and others by their human names. Anyway, seeing as if they tried, Arthur would fight with them the whole way. However, the Briton knew something else was terribly wrong, like Lukas and Feli. Whenever he looked at his wizard friend, a strange feeling came over him. It felt like a natural dislike bordering on hate which he had never felt before, and he couldn't even find his magical friends.

 _What's wrong with me? With all of us?_ He glanced at the others. They had been healed, but were left with faint scars. Most of them were acting normal except for himself, Alfred, and Mattie. The northern nation seemed to be worrying over his southern brother, who looked like he was worried himself. Alfred was glancing at the different countries, almost like he was afraid they would strike out at him. When their eyes met, he mouthed some words to Arthur.

" _Wear some silver tonight, probably in a necklace._ " Alfred was giving him a warning, he could tell. But why silver? And why did those wolves and these symptoms seem so familiar? He knew the answer, but it kept slipping his mind for some reason. Glancing at the others, he only hoped everything would be fine.

* * *

"Arthur?" Flying Mint Bunny peeked out at the man from behind the door as Arthur looked through the magic books in his basement. He wanted to look at his friend, but when he did, the small creature would duck out of sight.

"Yes, Bunny?"

"What happened to you?" Arthur paused in the middle of putting a book away, "It's scaring all of us."

"What do you mean?" he turned and FMB jumped, ducking out of sight with a whimper.

"Don't you see it? Your eyes are glowing, you have a predatory air, and don't even get me started on your sharper teeth!" Arthur frowned and looked to one of the many mirrors in the basement, this one not cursed. He didn't see any problem, so what was Bunny getting at?

"You might not see it, but we do!" Bunny spoke again, "We want to help you, Arthur, but we're too scared..."

"Scared of what?" FMB covered his eyes with a paw and pointed to book on the top shelf of a case deeper in the library. Eyes narrowing, he walked over and grabbed the designated book. Upon looking at the cover, his heart nearly skipped a beat. A human-like wolf howling at the moon.

"Bunny-" He looked at his friend, but the creature was gone. At least he knew what was going on now. And somehow, Alfred had been the first to figure it out. But how? He had no magical experience and loved his hamburgers, so how did he know what the wolves were last night and what Arthur needed to wear? He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He would have to go out and get a silver necklace before locking up the house and finding a place in it where he could stay while transformed. It was going to be a _long_ day...

* * *

" _L'Angleterre_! It's Francis!" the Frenchman knocked on the door to the house, "I have brought _petit_ Peter with me as well!"

"Yeah, Jerkland, open up!" Francis gave the boy a swat to the head.

"OW! What was that for?!"

"You shouldn't treat your brother like that!"

"Why not?! He doesn't recognize me as a nation and besides, it pisses him off like there's no tomorrow."

"... _Oui_ , I have to concede there. _Angleterre_!" He knocked again. Nothing. Peter frowned and searched the bushes around the door for the spare key.

"You aren't the only one who sneaks into his house on occasion." the micronation explained, "Now let's see what Jerkland is up to." They found him passed out on his bed, face flushed. Francis felt his forehead, then jerked it away like he had been stung.

" _Sac_ _r_ _é_ _bleu_! He is burning up! Peter, get a bowl of cold water and a towel, quickly! I shall get his medical supplies!" With a worried glance at his brother, Peter left for the kitchen. When he returned, Francis wasn't back yet, so the boy set to work. After putting the now-wet towel on Arthur's forehead, he noticed that the man was wearing a necklace of silver. It was at that moment the Frenchman rushed in, taking a thermometer out of the case and putting it into the Briton's mouth.

"This is quite bad." Francis winced at reading the temperature, "41.1 degrees. He has a high fever, but not as high as it could be."

"He was just fine yesterday, wasn't he?" Peter asked. Francis nodded, wetting the towel again.

" _Oui_." he dabbed at his frenemy's forehead with the cloth, "I have no idea how he got like this, though."

"Is it possible he caught a cold?"

"In this weather, yes. However, he couldn't have gotten such a high fever so quickly just after a day. Something is wrong." he turned to the boy, "Call his brothers. They might know what's going on, since this seems to have the scent of magic all over it." Peter paused at the doorway.

"I thought you didn't believe in magic."

"Actually, all the nations do, we just don't want Arthur and his friends to know. They would try to drag us into their tricks if they knew." Slowly, Peter nodded, then left. Francis turned back to Arthur and wet the towel once again. It worried him to no end, but he honestly didn't want to know what caused it.

"They'll be here tonight." Peter came in, "Alistair said that something feels wrong to all of them, which is why they were planning to come anyway." Francis nodded back.

"It's going to be a _long_ day..."

* * *

Steadily, as the day progressed, Arthur's fever got worse. It continued to rise no matter what they did, even undressing and splashing cold water on him didn't help. Right now, he was sweating profusely and panting. He hadn't woken up once, and it was worrying them.

"What's the temperature now?" Francis shook his head when he read the thermometer, knowing it wasn't normal to have such a high and dangerous fever.

"45. It's gotten much worse." Peter glanced down at his swinging feet. He was sitting on the bed, near the foot of it, while Francis sat on a chair beside the bed. It was quiet except for the pants of their English frenemy.

"...What do you think is going on?"

" _Je ne sais pas_. Hopefully it is only a pesky virus."

"And if it isn't?" Francis was about to answer when they were interrupted by Arthur. He was moaning, shaking his head as his eyes flickered open. Instead of being fogged over with fever, they were bright as the sun outside, which was beginning to set.

"W...what...?" His voice cracked, throat and mouth dry as could be.

" _Facile, mon ami_." The Frenchman gave him a glass of water which had been on the bedside table, just in case.

"What are you doing here, frog?" Arthur finally managed to growl out.

" _Petit_ Peter is here as well. You have been quite sick all day!" Arthur glanced down at his little brother, who gave a small wave and a big grin.

"No, you don't understand." Arthur grabbed the necklace from the bedside table, slipping it on, "You shouldn't be here. Things are about to head south, and soon."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"Just go!" Arthur snarled, swatting away Francis' hands as he sat up. He realized he was in nothing but his underwear and blushed, but the two didn't leave.

"Arthur, what is going on?" Francis grabbed the shorter man's wrist and Arthur flicked his eyes to him, bearing his teeth. Francis flinched, but held firm.

"It's something dangerous, something that I don't want you to get involved in. Now, OUT!" They had no choice but to obey this time, as somehow Arthur had become much more intimidating in a few seconds. However, they only went to the kitchen, they didn't leave the house.

"What the bloody h**l is going on with him?" Peter growled, "We help him and look what happens!" Francis sighed.

"He is only doing this to protect us from something, I am guessing, but what?"

"What in the world would he be trying to protect us from? Himself?"

"Yes...that is it!" Francis snapped his fingers suddenly, "Now I know why the symptoms seemed familiar! He is-" The Frenchman was interrupted once again by Arthur, but this time, the Briton was screaming painfully. Peter whipped around, ready to charge up the stairs and check on his brother, when Francis grabbed him, pulling him back.

"What are you doing?!" Peter had to shout to be heard, "Arthur's in pain! We need to help!"

"No, Peter, you do not understand!" The screams were quickly growing deeper in pitch for some reason and Francis glanced around worriedly.

"Come with me, we don't have much time!" They raced into the basement, where Francis grabbed some chalk.

"Look for a black book with gold patterns and blue ink! There is a spell in it that should keep us safe." Peter did so and was chilled when the screams became howls.

"Just what is going on?!" the boy whimpered, bringing the book as Francis finished making marks on the floor. There was a circle of chalk, similar to the ones Arthur made sometimes.

"Get in the circle, don't have any part of your body out of it or this won't work!" the older man urged. He hurriedly flipped through the book, searching for a page as the howls finally stopped.

"It has been a while, but hopefully, this will work. We don't have much of a choice. _Sheodium Wersius_!" The circle glowed and a transparent, almost invisible shield came up. Francis breathed a sigh of relief.

"If he comes after us, he will not be able to do so." he explained, "The symptoms you saw, with the fever and the wish to wear a silver necklace...It shows Arthur has become a werewolf." Peter nearly did a spit take.

"WHAT?!" he shouted, where Francis clamped a hand over his mouth. However, it was too late, as they could hear shuffling from upstairs. Luckily, the basement door was bolted.

"What the bloody h**l do you mean?!" Peter growled softly, both males jumping when they heard a crash from upstairs.

"I am guessing something happened last night, most likely on his way back to his hotel in the Netherlands. Angleterre, Alfred, Matthew, Ivan, the Baltics, Feliks, the German and Italian brothers, and the Nordics didn't come back last night. They were only seen today, getting on and off the plane bound for their homes."

"But then what's with this spell?"

"It's to keep werewolves out, at least until sunrise. Nothing can get in or out. Silver is supposed to be able to hurt and even kill a werewolf, which is true, but if they wear it, it can also help them retain some of their sanity. This shield is a precaution, though." Peter nodded, then looked at the basement door.

"I will try not to make fun of him after this. And I hope my family is alright, since you said they didn't go back to their rooms." Francis nodded and they sat down to wait.

* * *

"Little brother!" Alistair pounded on the door, "We know you're in there, let us in!"

"Why would he let us in if he's sick?" William said, "We still have those spare keys he gave us."

"Oh, right." Sean rolled his eyes, unlocking the door and peeking inside. He quickly shut it and locked it, backing away while cursing in Gaelic. Seeing as they were brothers, they understood what he was cursing about somewhat, especially Alroy.

"Oh h**l no..." the other three ran away from the door as well just as it was knocked down. A large blond wolf laid there, shaking its head. It had on shorts and a loose black tie over a silver necklace. What stood out most were its enormous eyebrows and its bright, forest green eyes. After getting its bearings, it glared at them as its eyes narrowed, growling.

"Now, big brother, we're not here to hurt you." Alroy tried appeasing the wolf, even though he was the least quailified (after Alistair) to do so. The wolf snapped at him, making him back away quickly. It seemed there would be no reasoning with him.

"When I say, all of us duck." Alistair took charge. The wolf's growling worsened and it lowered close to the ground.

"One, two-" The wolf leapt, paws (which looked more like hands) outstretched.

"THREE!" all four brothers ducked and raced into the house. The wolf tumbled but got right back up and chased after them.

"Francis and Peter were in here earlier when they called us!" William said as they ran, "Do you think they're still here?"

"If so, then Arthur's drunken magic lessons came in handy!" Sean said, "To the basement!" They bolted the basement door behind them. It was thicker and stronger than the last door, so the wolf wouldn't be getting in so easily.

"You're here!" Peter cheered, then jumped when the door was slammed. It held, but there were angry barks from the other side, pounding on the door and scratching.

"That's not going to hold for long. Where's the chalk?" Alroy asked, glancing around, "And why is our brother a werewolf?"

"It's a long story." Francis said, "And we are not sure of it ourselves. The chalk is on the table, _monsieurs_."

"At least he has some sanity." William said.

"You call attacking us _sanity_?!" Alistair asked incredulously.

"At least he knows that we're not friends of his." Sean said, "Didn't you see the necklace? As long as he wears some silver, he should be able to distinguish who is friend and foe. Without it, he would be much more dangerous and uncontrollable." Another, larger circle was quickly made and the brothers gathered inside it. An angry howl sounded outside, but there were no more attacks to the door.

" _Sheodium Wersius_!" Alroy sighed in relief once the shield was up, "Think he's given up?"

"It's our brother; there's no way he's giving up so easily." Sean assured, "I just hope this spell can keep him out, like it should..."

* * *

 _ **41.1 in Celsius = 106 in Fahrenheit. 45 C = 113 F.**_

 _ **Alistair is Scotland, William is Wales, Sean is N. Ireland, and Alroy is Ireland, seeing as he was also once apart of the U.K. as well before gaining independence. The only reason Ireland would even be there for Arthur is because magic is involved. He's also N. Ireland's younger brother, so Sean technically had to drag Alroy along, otherwise he may not have come anyway. It's a bit confusing, but trust me, it works out.**_

 **Sheodium Wersius _is something I made up myself as a spell. Basically, it keeps out any transformed creature, but doesn't let anything out, either._**

 _ **And also, the reason Arthur is still wearing some clothes as a wolf is because he didn't want to be caught in only a silver necklace and his underwear as a werewolf. Man has his pride, after all.**_

 _ **The silver necklace thing is also going to play a bigger part later, which will be explained, but for now, enjoy Werewolf!England.**_

 _ **Also, Read-y & Review-y!**_


	3. AN

**ATTENTION, REVIEWERS, GUESTS, READERS, FAVORITERS, AND FOLLOWERS! THIS IS AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!**

 **Well, not really, but I needed to get your attention somehow, right? Anyway, I have a challenge for all of you! A while back, I found a picture on DeviantArt by 1sthi1357 made of Dino TK, from my story, _Of Dinos and Digimon_. Last night, when I was looking at it again, it gave me an idea!**

 **I am not a drawing person. I trace, but don't draw. Which is why I want to ask you guys if you could draw for me! Well, not for me, but from my stories.**

 **This is what I mean: you draw things from my stories and post them on DeviantArt, I'll mention them in the story they're from. There is no cost or prize, except maybe a Llama and my eternal happiness!**

 **Here are the rules:**

 **1\. You _MUST_ include my name in the description so I can find it and the name of the story it's from.**

 **2\. It doesn't have to be a good picture, it can be whatever. I want to see what you all can come up with!**

 **3\. You can make multiple works of art, not just one piece.**

 **4\. They can either be character designs, scenes (or comics) from the story, or title pictures.**

 **Now that that's done with, I hope you guys take on the challenge! See you!**


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